


The Stars Before the Storm

by AEArchives, QuiII



Category: Furry (Fandom), Rivals of Aether (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Archai Monastery, Birds, Bradshaw is really cute in this one, Feel-good, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foxes, Goats, M/M, Monastery, Mountains, Other, Short, Steam Workshop, Tarot, The weight of the future weighs down on her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEArchives/pseuds/AEArchives, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuiII/pseuds/QuiII
Summary: With the disaster of the Abyss Crisis looming in every future she can see, Astra tries to inspire a simple happiness.Co-created with Jack Redplay and Wishdream, on discord.Astra was created by Wishdream.
Relationships: Bradshaw/Wrastor (Rivals of Aether)
Kudos: 2





	The Stars Before the Storm

The flowers were beautiful. Astra sat on the stone path in the garden, looking at the small, brilliantly red flowers growing on wiry stems before her. Winter was only just releasing its hold on the Monastery.  
  
It was a drab day. The snow atop the mountains was grey thanks to the sky. The garden hung above the valley, a large, strong balcony made of stone that was built out from and carved into the mountain’s rock.  
  
The balcony was emblematic of the Archai Monastery’s architecture. Beginning atop a small plateau, its buildings sprawled and blended seamlessly with the mountain, cutting through it and snaking around it like a creeping vine. The Monastery’s energy hummed gently for those who were attuned to it.  
  
Astra sat with her back to the dark interior. Before her was a small, gnarled, bare tree that grew in the centre of the garden. It looked ancient, like it had and would always be there, unlike the flowers. A path dutifully surrounded the tree, separating it from the flower beds and then the railing beyond. Three squat, stone benches sat stoically along the path. They were plain, made hard and smooth by years of storms and stout winds.  
  
Below the garden, Absa’s endless storm blackened the day, its clouds obscuring the valley and the lands below. It roiled and churned, daring would-be attackers to test it. Astra didn’t like the storm, how it rumbled and flashed through the night. It made her think of the future.  
  
A cold wind blew from the South, curving around the mountain and making the little plants shiver. It made Astra want to pull her cloak around her to shut out the cold. She bared herself to it instead, letting it chill her fur without trying to hide. She was a small fox, with soft, purple fur. Serene on this morning. Calm despite her thoughts.  
  
From behind her, Astra could hear the goats of the Monastery as their hooves clattered from their morning meal in their messes to the cavernous hall at the centre of the Monastery. There they would offer prayers to Archai to bless them and, especially, for hope. The Air Armada had refused to return, yet again. It hovered far above the Monastery, away from the pleading voices.  
  
The goats’ cacophony made Astra’s ears twitch. She breathed deeply and tried to focus on the flowers, but her mind kept wandering back to her cards. The deck strapped to her waist felt heavier than usual today. It almost begged to be taken out, to speak to her. She didn’t want to hear. One future haunted her cards, treacherously whispering in every reading.  
  
As the echoes faded within the building, they gave way to the soft tap of talons on the stone. Astra cocked an ear, but tried to maintain an air of peace and indifference. She collected herself, and took a deep breath. Quickly, before she could doubt herself, Astra stood and faced the archway to greet her client.  
  
Bradshaw appeared from within the dark, polished halls of the Monastery. He stood apprehensively at the entrance to the garden, peeking around the wall. Wringing his wings, he stepped forward. To Astra, he barely seemed like a warrior of the Armada. He was a blue goose – strange in these parts. Maybe his family lived in the north before the fire.  
  
An image of the Aether on fire flashed through her mind as she took a step toward him, casually as she could manage, struggling to keep her tail from flicking. She clasped her hands to keep them from trembling.  
  
Bradshaw was tall. He looked down at Astra, worry plain on his face.  
  
“Hey, Astra. I’m sorry you had to wait – it took a little while to get here. I had to stay on the training ship a little later than I expected, and the clouds made it hard to navigate…” He glanced nervously over his shoulder, but the only noise he heard was the muffled chanting. Thunder rumbled in the clouds below them, “Is it okay for me to be here?”  
  
Astra tried to relax a little. “It’s fine. No one needs to know you’re here.” She wondered how to begin. Where to begin. “Would you like to sit?” She indicated to one of the simple stone benches that looked out over the dark clouds and far away from the Monastery’s peak – out over places untouched by Absa’s storm.  
  
“Thanks,” He said, lowering himself onto the bench. He looked out in silence for a moment while Astra sat beside him. “We can’t usually see the mountains from the Armada. Sometimes the sky is clear enough that you can see, but Absa’s storm makes it hard to see much else.”  
  
They stared, together, at the ever-changing crest of the storm. It churned like an angry sea, like the future as Astra had seen it. Astra wondered if Bradshaw ever sat with Wrastor like this on the Armada, looking out over kinder clouds. She didn’t think he did, but she hoped.  
  
After taking a deep breath, Astra finally spoke, “Do you really want to know? It’s not always easy to know what may come to pass.”  
  
Bradshaw eyed her, “Bad news, then?”  
  
Astra didn’t look at him, trying instead to feel strong like the wiry flowers behind her, surviving in the shadow of the tree. Strong like the faith of the goats within the monastery, chanting to Archai for peace and deliverance.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Bradshaw swallowed. “I still want to know. I need to be… prepared for everything that might happen,” He looked away, blushing a little, “Especially with Wrastor.”  
  
“Very well,” Astra said, “I’ll show you my reading.” She took out her deck and leafed through it, selecting the nine cards drawn the previous night. Her fur stood on end as she felt the energy of the stars coursing through her, casting light on past, present, and future. Astra saw future looming over them, saw again the raging flames, and carefully selected the few strands that she wished to see.  
  
Astra’s cards seemed as vast as the night sky. They bore constellations and heavenly bodies that turned and swirled in the void.  
  
“These three on the top are yours, the bottom are Wrastor’s, and the middle are the ties that bind you,” She whispered, laying the cards facedown between them. As her fingertips touched the card of Bradshaw’s past, she hesitated. Steeling herself, she turned over Bradshaw’s cards, from past to future: Ace of Pentacles, inverted; Strength, inverted; Five of Cups.  
  
“Your past holds regret,” Astra said, tracing the edge of the Ace, “You nearly pursued Wrastor, but didn’t. Fear is strong. That’s why you’re here now, talking to me. This Strength, inverted, betrays your insecurity. If you could confront your fears, then maybe...” She looked at the Five of Cups, “This last card is grief.”  
  
Bradshaw looked shaken. He stared at the cards in dismay, “Are you saying that if I try to pursue Wrastor… he will reject me?”  
  
“Not exactly…” Astra said. She revealed Wrastor’s cards: Ten of Wands, Knight of Wands, and the Tower looming over them all scorched earth at its base. There were no stars in its sky. It was the only card without them, the only card where the darkness ruled so completely. Looking at it again made Astra shiver.  
  
“These two should not surprise you. You know his past; you know him now. His future, though, is ruination,” She looked up at Bradshaw, “I’m sorry.” The wind blew and the flowers shuddered. The tree did not.  
  
Bradshaw rubbed at his eyes and took a large, shaky breath. Astra put her hand over his wing in an attempt to reassure him. It wasn’t going to be okay, though. Nothing she said could make it okay.  
  
“Is this… really how it has to be?” Bradshaw tearfully asked, “Can we not be together?”  
  
“I don’t know. I know it looks bad for Wrastor, but… your bond suggests that it isn’t rejection that you will face.” Astra flipped the Six of Swords, inverted; the Knight of Cups, and, finally; the World, inverted. “The Six of Swords represents baggage from your past. I won’t ask, but something stopped your relationship from blooming. I could guess, but I won’t. The Knight of Cups tells me that you must follow your heart. Something romantic is possible between the two of you,” She smiled meekly, “You just need to open yourself up to it.” She said nothing about the World, its lack of closure, or the fire that turned it upside down.  
  
For a long moment, Bradshaw stared numbly at the cards arranged before him. His hand felt heavy in Astra’s. A wind ruffled his feathers and her fur, and made the little, wiry stems shiver again.  
  
Finally, Bradshaw sighed. He rubbed at his eyes, and looked at Astra with a broken smile, “Is he going to die?”  
  
Their eyes locked, and Astra said, “I hope he doesn’t.” The flowers trembled.  
  
Bradshaw withdrew his hand, so Astra rested hers on her lap. Behind them, the monks were filed out of the prayer hall for breakfast. Neither looked at them, but both were quiet while they passed, listening to the tapping of their hooves and the hum of their incantations. To Astra, it looked like Bradshaw was steeling himself, or maybe he was shattered and trying to pull his pieces back together.  
  
Bradshaw stood and stared defiantly at the horizon. He tried his best to look determined. His scarf flowed and snapped in the wind. He looked down at Astra and said, “Thank you for doing this for me. I… know now how to act. Thank you.”  
  
Astra looked as though she might collapse from relief. “I’m glad that I could help, but I worry all the same. Just… do you best. For him. If I can do anything else, please let me know.”  
  
“It’s okay. I know what to do now,” Bradshaw said. He began to leave, but stopped in the doorway. As he looked back at Astra it seemed like he might want to say something, but he left.  
  
Astra stared into the empty space of the doorway, at the shadowy hall beyond. She gathered up her cards and looked up into the sky, almost as if pleading with the heavens. A single flower petal blew loose in a sudden gust, and was lost in the storm. She left the courtyard and its delicate flowers, vainly taking shelter beneath their ancient tree.


End file.
